First Comes Love
by MandyinKC
Summary: Three couples. Three moments. One emotion.
1. First Comes Love

Author's Note: Happy Friday! First a warning: the third chapter is Not Safe for Work.

I would like to thank my beta, **BurgundyHope** , for her quick work on these chapters. This was written for The Valentine Making Station (Challenge) on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges. The prompts were for a G-Rated love scene, a PG-13 Rated love scene, and an R-Rated love scene. You will notice that for the first time, I'm using an M-Rating on this collection, and it is well deserved. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to JK Rowling.

 ** _Rated G_**

* * *

First Came Love...

Teddy Lupin stood at the top of a sandy slope in his bathing custom, towel slung over his shoulder, taking in the mass chaos on the beach before him. Twilight was rolling in on a warm breeze, a huge bonfire roared a few yards from where Teddy stood, well out of the reach of the waves. Children from eight to fifteen raced up and down the sand shouting at each other. But the person Teddy was searching for was sat by the flames.

"Teddy, you're here!"

James Potter ran full tilt at Teddy, who quickly stepped aside to avoid being tackled. For the last three days, since arriving home from Hogwarts, James hadn't shut up about the beach party Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur were having for all the returning kids. James had begged Teddy to come:

" _It just won't be the same without you."_

" _Why would I want to hang out with a bunch of Hogwarts students?" Teddy asked, ruffling James's hair._

" _We're not just some bunch of kids, we're your cousins. And, at least, me and Freddie are cool."_

"' _Freddie and I'."_

" _What?" James's brow furrowed, but he wasn't one to be bogged down by intellectual pursuits for long. "You gotta come!"_

" _I reckon," Teddy said with a long sigh._

While he may have made James work for it, Teddy had no intention of missing this gathering of the Weasley kids. Besides the dubious coolness of Freddie Weasley and James Potter, there was a much more attractive incentive for hanging out with a bunch of Hogwarts students, and she was smiling at him from her spot by the fire. Teddy didn't want to seem too keen, but he was going to ditch James at the first opportunity.

"Of course I'm here, mate," Teddy said to James, glancing at the kid whose head now came up to Teddy's clavicle. "I said I'd come, didn't I?"

James beamed at Teddy. "Me and Freddie—"

"You know what," Teddy interrupted, slapping the kid on the back, "I think I'm going to say 'hello' to Vic, I'll catch up with you later, alright?"

With a small twinge of guilt, Teddy left his godbrother standing on the ridge as he made his way across the sand to the bonfire. This was the first time Teddy had seen Victoire since January, since he realized that he was in love with her. He'd tried, and failed, to come up with an excuse that would allow him to meet her at King's Cross, or have dinner at Shell Cottage, or just about anything that allowed him to see her without seeming like a prat. Every fiber of Teddy's being wanted to be near Victoire, but he was scared senseless of telling her.

With eyes on Vic, Teddy didn't see the Quaffle coming until it crashed into his head. Landing in an inelegant heap in the sand, Teddy could only see stars for a moment—the metaphorical kind, not the astrological ones—then his vision was filled with Roxy's fierce glare and her halo of dark curls. Merlin save Teddy from overly competitive Gryffindors.

"Honestly, Lupin," Roxy scoffed, offering her hand. "This is why you weren't chosen for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team."

Teddy allowed himself to be hauled out of the sand, and brushed himself off. Behind Roxy were her usual cohorts, Mol and Dom, Lily sitting on Dom's shoulders. The three older girls were wearing bikini tops and cut-off shorts, looking like anything but his little cousins. Roxy was all curves, sinew, and brown skin, as opposed to Dom and Mol who were long-legged, freckled, and ginger. Teddy quickly averted his eyes. They were fifteen now, and a little too grown up for Teddy's likings. Were they hiding all that under their jumpers at Christmas?

"Er, here's your Quaffle?" Teddy said, not meaning for it to sound like a question. The female half of the population did not generally intimidate Teddy, unless those females were Weasleys.

Roxy grabbed the ball and ran off, but Dom eyed him carefully. She was nearly as tall as Teddy, coming up to his nose in fact. Shrewdly intelligent, with a flair for mischief and revenge. Nobody crossed Dom, or her siblings, without facing her wrath—including Rita Skeeter. What the Weasley Three had done to the old gnat at the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago was stuff of legend, and it was all in defense of Victoire. Teddy squared his shoulders, staring back at Dom. He was an adult, he was a year into Auror training, but most of all, he wanted the same thing as Dom: Victoire's happiness.

"She's been waiting for you all day," Dom said coolly. "In fact, she's been waiting for three days."

Teddy gave into his weakness, sneaking a look in Victoire's direction. She was watching them, her back straight and her delicate mouth pulled into a frown. Flicking his eyes back at Dom, Teddy kept his expression blank. He wasn't going to betray that his heart skipped a beat to know that Victoire was eager to see him, but he wasn't going to be indifferent either. He cared about Victoire, and that might make him nervous, but he wouldn't disrespect her by acting aloof.

"I didn't know," Teddy said simply, spreading his hands wide. "I came from Auror duty to be at the party tonight."

"If you don't know how Vic feels about you, then you are about as dumb as that haircut," Dom said, turning on her heel.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Teddy ran his fingers through his blue locks.

"Bye-bye, Teddy," Lily called from atop of Dom's shoulders. She craned around to wave.

"Lily, what's wrong with my hair?" At work, Teddy wore his hair boringly—black and conservative—so that he would be taken more seriously. But the grand thing about being a metamorphmagus, was that Teddy was not limited to one hairstyle. After work, Teddy wore a fade, black underneath, scruffy and blue on top. Since he got home, James must have told Teddy a dozen times how cool his hair was. Teddy nearly panicked when he realized he was taking style advice of a thirteen-year-old kid!

Lily giggled from atop Dom's shoulders.

Girls! They were the worst. Combing his fingers through his hair one more time, Teddy resumed his walk towards the bonfire, and Victoire, again. She was watching his approach, hands clenched atop her knees. Sadly, she was much more covered up than her sister or cousins, wearing a Ravenclaw jumper with her cutoff shorts. Strings were poking out of the neck, however, hinting at a bikini underneath. Teddy wondered how he could get her out of that jumper.

"Wotcher, Vic," Teddy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"What did Dom want?" she asked, frowning.

"To be a pain in the arse, naturally."

"Hmph!"

Teddy sat on the log next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. The flush of heat that overtook his body had nothing to do with the roaring fire before them, and everything to do with the smoothness of Victoire's skin. He glanced at her pale face. She had little freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, but the rest of her was peaches and cream—except tonight she was sporting an unusually pink nose.

"Do you have a cold?" he asked.

Victoire snuffled inelegantly. "Yes. _Maman_ says I'm not allowed near the water, and I am to stay warm."

"And of course, you told her that you're an adult now, and can make your own decisions."

Vic giggled. "Naturally, because that goes over just as well with my mother as it does with your Gran." She took his hand, looking at him earnestly. "I'm glad you came tonight."

Staring at their hands clasped together, Teddy couldn't quite find the words to reply. He had known Victoire Weasley since he was two-years-old. He had held her hand countless times, but this felt like the first time. He was aware of the warmth of her palm, the callous on her fingers from hundreds of hours spent playing the cello, the strength of her grasp.

"So am I," Teddy rasped. He looked up to find Victoire's face near his, her eyes staring into his. For a moment, he was frozen there, his mouth dry and his mind blank. "Um, do you wanna, um, walk? Or something?"

"Okay."

The two started up the beach in the direction of the house, still hand in hand.

"Where's your dad?" Teddy asked, taking a look around to see if anybody was watching their departure. There was Dom, standing a head taller than the rest of the cousins, staring in their direction. Teddy nodded, but Dom's eyebrows just lifted.

"In his library?" Victoire replied. " _Maman_ said he is not to leave it short of fire or impending death."

Relief washed over Teddy, at least Bill Weasley wouldn't be watching out a window as Teddy led his daughter off to a more secluded area.

"So." Teddy cleared his throat. "You wrote about your classes in your letters, but did you…go to Hogsmeade with anybody?"

"I went with Ed Crudup in February, but just the girls in May."

Ed Crudup was a Ravenclaw in the year between Teddy and Victoire. A tall, good looking bloke full of book smarts. Teddy was no idiot—he'd been Head Boy, hadn't he—but it was more hard work than natural brilliance. If Victoire was looking for genius, she wouldn't find it in him.

"Going to Hogsmeade on a date is just so boring, isn't it?" Victoire continued.

Teddy perked up. That hadn't been Teddy's experience, but if Vic thought so then he was in full support. Whatever meant that she wasn't going off to kiss some berk who wasn't good enough for her.

"How so?" Teddy asked.

"I've never had a date who has more than five words to say to me, then he wants a snog. I'd much rather go with my friends than have to fend off another set of pawing hands."

"Who was pawing you?" Teddy demanded. He stopped, chest puffed out.

Vic looked at him, her face cast in shadows now that they were away from the bonfire. "Relax, Teddy, I know how to deal with an impertinent beau."

"I reckon," he grumbled, her words offering him no relief. There was a beast inside of him that wanted to rip apart any boy who dared to lay an unwanted hand on Victoire. Honestly, he kind of wanted to rough up the ones who made wanted advances, too.

Vic pulled on his hand to get him walking again, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "So what about you?"

"Um, I've not been seeing anyone, the Aurors keep me busy." That was a pathetic excuse. Sure, Auror training was intense, but plenty of the other trainees managed to have love lives. Teddy was taking the easy way out, and that sat cockeyed in his stomach. "Actually, there's been somebody special, but I don't know if she feels the same way about me."

They stopped by the garden gate. Teddy's heart was racing inside of chest, and his palms were starting to sweat. He wanted to pull his hand away from Victoire's so that she wouldn't be disgusted by his dampness, but he didn't. What if this was the last time he had the chance to hold Vic's hand? In the six months since Teddy realized he loved Victoire, he'd played this scene out in his head a million times. He'd composed his speech so many times, always ending with some variation of Teddy begging Victoire to remain friends no matter what. Now that the moment was at hand, it would seem that Teddy's words had dried up.

Victoire pushed her braid off her shoulder. "Oh? She-she'd be mental not to be madly in love with you, Teddy."

She tipped her face up so that she could look at him—putting her at the perfect angle to be kissed. All Teddy had to do was bend down slightly, close his eyes, and press his lips to hers. Should he confess first, kiss second? That seemed like the chivalrous thing to do, but he was no Gryffindor. He was, however, a Hufflepuff through and through, and Hufflepuffs believed in fair play. Victoire deserved the opportunity to tell him to 'bugger off' before foisting kisses on her.

"Well, she is a bit mental," Teddy said, his eyes were trained on the small mole by her left eyebrow. He reached out to trace his finger along her hairline. "But she's the sanest person in her family, so maybe she comes by it naturally."

Victoire clutched his t-shirt. "Does she have a name?"

"Eh, it's this silly French name that nobody can pronounce."

"Teddy." Victoire sounded annoyed. He flicked his gaze from her brow to her eyes. There was no way to tell their color in the dark, but they were blue, like the delphiniums that grew in his gran's garden. There was also no way to discern the emotion in them, but he could tell that her eyebrows had formed a deep V over her elegant nose, and her dainty mouth was pulled into a pout. Teddy imagined the evil glimmer in Vic's eyes, the one she got whenever Teddy nettled her, and he grinned.

"I love you, Victoire Wealsey," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, it's about time," she replied tartly.

"If-if you don't feel the same way—wait, what?"

"I have loved you my whole life, Edward Lupin, and you've made me wait more than seventeen years for you to realize the same thing." She crossed her arms, one hip cocked out. "Dom says it's because your daft, and I'm inclined to agree."

Teddy stood, mouth agape. The last sixty seconds of his life replayed in his head: he'd confessed his love, and so did Victoire? She'd also called him daft, but maybe he should set that aside for now. Victoire loved _him_ , Teddy?

"So. So, are you…in love with me?" Teddy asked, pointing first at Victoire, then himself.

"Yes!"

"Somehow, I imagined this moment going differently."

Victoire giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Teddy, you can't have imagined it as many times as I have."

Some part of Teddy knew what she said was true. Falling in love with Victoire was frightening, but the idea of her rejecting his love was terrifying. Yet, some part of him had always known that would never happen. Small moments from their life together stuck in his mind, the kind that should have been long forgotten as insignificant, yet seemed to meld with Teddy's very essence. The way Victoire looked at him when he rescued a kitten from a tree. The way tears glimmered in her eyes when he told her she was a pest and to get lost. How she hugged him the day he left for Hogwarts for the first time.

Teddy looked at Victoire, taking both of her hands in his. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," Victoire whispered back.

"What do we do now?"

"I think you kiss me."

When Teddy imagined this moment, it often ended with Victoire stomping away in a huff. But there were other times, when he was feeling hopeful, when it ended with a kiss. His heart sped up again, not with fear, but with the quick tattoo of anticipation. Tingling heat flooded Teddy's body as he pulled Victoire into his arms. He only had a moment to register the rush of lust in holding her against him in a non-platonic manner. Guiltily, he acknowledged that this had felt good long before he understood why.

Then Teddy was kissing Victoire, and all other thoughts fled from his mind. This was where he was meant to be.


	2. Then Comes Marriage

**_Rated PG-13  
_**

* * *

Then Comes Marriage…

Scotland could count on three days of summer in any given year, this was one of those days. Still, Percy couldn't help but check the sky for signs of rain as he sat in his best mate's garden enjoying lunch al fresco. The blue skies held, and so did the good mood.

"You've been quiet."

A small finger jabbed Percy in the ribs, pulling him out of his thoughts. Most of which concerned the witch currently leaving bruises on his side. He grabbed Audrey's finger, smiling when she did.

"For the best probably," Oliver said. "Who needs another lecture on the importance Portkey travel safety?"

"The same people who love to hear about the proper method to clean your broomstick," Katie replied tartly. She stood, waved her wand over the table to send all of the dishes floating back inside, and bent to kiss her husband. "Come along, Audrey, I'll make tea and we'll have a proper chat."

The women disappeared into the house, leaving Percy with Oliver who was busy supporting his six-month-old son under his arms as he bounced up and down on chubby legs. Without a shred of shame, Percy watched Audrey as she walked away. Even in a pair of jeans and a jumper, there was a sexy sway of her slim hips that Percy never tired of seeing. It made him hot, as his mind pictured those same hips without a stitch of clothing, and all of the other incredible ways they could move.

Percy cleared his throat, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. He grabbed his Butterbeer, glancing at Oliver to see that he was watching Katie in the same way. Of course, Oliver and Katie were married. It would be a year at the end of the month. That turned Percy's thoughts in a different, although still pleasurable, direction. The weight of the tiny ring in his breast pocket seemed to increase, warm, and Percy smiled.

"How'd you ask Katie to marry you?" Percy blurted out.

Oliver shot Percy a look from the corner of his eye. "Are you taking the piss—er, mickey? Katie says I have to start watching my language in front of the lad."

"Well, she's correct, as usual. I'll not have my godson swearing like a ruffian," Percy teased. "But no, to answer your question, I was not taking the mickey. I'd like to know how you did it."

"She was pregnant, Perce. It's not as if I planned it out. I asked, and found a ring later."

"If you had it to do all over again?"

"I've learned that life is best lived without 'what-ifs'," Oliver replied in a low voice. He snuggled the baby close, who laid his head against his daddy's shoulder. "What do pretty words or the right moment really count for anyway? All that matters is that Katie is the only woman in the world for me, and for some reason she loves me, too. The rest can go hang. What's all this about then?"

Percy dug the ring out of his breast pocket. It was delicate. A rectangular emerald set on its side, two tiny diamonds flanking it, on a thin gold band. The stone winked in the summer sun. While the ring, and its emerald, were small, they were beautiful in their uniqueness.

Oliver whistled. "When are you planning to pop the question?"

"I don't know," Percy admitted.

He'd found the perfect ring, but he couldn't think of the perfect words. He wanted to make some sort of grand gesture, say the kind of things that would reassure Audrey that she could trust her heart with him. He'd consulted countless poetry books, only to find that he was in no way a poet. He'd even considered asking George to plan something spectacular, maybe with Whizz-Bangs and sparklers, but that didn't feel right either.

"Then why are you carrying around the ring?" Oliver asked.

Percy shot a sheepish look towards the house, pocketing the ring once more. "I can't figure out where to hide it in the flat where Audrey won't find it."

"You mean, she snoops."

"Indeed."

oOo

A few weeks later, Percy found himself standing in the foyer of Shell Cottage surrounded by trunks and suitcases. The melodic laughter of witches could be heard from above, but he was faced with the unpleasant scowl of his eldest brother. Bill was a man defeated, and not happy about it.

"When do you leave?" Percy asked.

Bill sighed, his arms crossed over his chest. "Tuesday, next."

"Only a fortnight, right?"

Bill nodded. "Thirteen days, and fourteen days in sunny Egypt."

"Then…" Percy looked around at all the luggage, brow furrowed. "And it's just the two of you?"

"Wouldn't be a honeymoon if we brought along guests, would it?"

"We didn't pack this much when we took the whole family to Egypt."

"I told her the only thing she needed to pack was her bathing costume—and that was _if_ I decided to let her out of the hotel room, but Fleur has different ideas."

Percy chuckled. "She always does."

"There are day outfits, and dinner outfits, and bathing costumes—though she would just go topless if she could. Outfits incase we go dancing or shopping or who knows what! She packed pajamas. Why?" Bill flung his arms out, gesturing to the stack of cases. "This is our much belated honeymoon, for Merlin's sake!"

"Where are your suitcases?"

"Not packed yet," Bill grumbled.

"I'm sure I could find some law restricting the number of suitcases an international traveller is allowed."

Bill cocked one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tucking up. "Always knew having a bureaucrat in the family would come in handy."

As amusing as Bill's predicament was, Percy was dwelling on his own. He still hadn't figured out the proper way to ask Audrey to marry him. Everyday, he carried that ring near his heart, a reminder that he was wasting time. That was something he'd done enough of in his short lifetime, and not a mistake he meant to commit again. He loved Audrey, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Starting tomorrow, if that wasn't too much to ask.

"How did you do it?" Percy blurted.

"Do what?" Bill asked.

"Ask Fleur to marry you?"

Bill looked at the ceiling, as if his recall would improve if he were looking in the direction of Fleur, even if he couldn't see her.

"It was after the Battle of the Ministry," Bill started.

Percy groaned as memories of that Battle flooded him. The fear and humiliation at seeing Voldemort, at being so publicly proven a fool, had been excruciating. Glancing at the floor, fiddling with his glasses, Percy stamped down those emotions. That was a long time ago. He hoped he was a better person now than he was then.

"I knew things were about to get worse," Bill continued. "A part of me wanted Fleur to leave. Go back to France, and be safe."

"But she had other ideas?"

"She always does." Bill grinned, a soft light in his eyes. "Truthfully, I didn't want her to go. I wanted her by my side. I found the ring by chance. I was consulting an antique dealer about the family history on a cursed object I was working on, and he had the ring in his shop. I bought it, and kept it in my pocket for a week."

Percy smiled. He could understand that.

"I took her out for fish n' chips—"

"Fish n' chips?" Percy demanded, his brows snapping together.

"The ring set me back, mate." Bill smirked. "And I like to listen to Fleur complain—she's funny when she gets knickers in a twist over English cuisine."

"Yes, I've noticed that Mum thinks it's one of her more charming qualities."

Bill laughed. "I took her to the beach, and asked her in the moonlight." He motioned to the stacks of suitcases and trunks. "I know people think that Fleur is…high maintenance, but that's just her Frenchness. There's a strong woman under all that glamour, and that's who I was asking to marry me."

"But what did you _say_ to her?"

"That's between the two of us," Bill replied, eyeing his brother shrewdly. "Any particular reason you want to know?"

Percy pushed his glassed up. "Not really, no."

oOo

"Where's Audrey, dear?"

Sitting in the garden over the chessboard with Ron, Percy looked up at his mum who was standing in the kitchen door with her apron on. It was the Sunday after Bill and Fleur left for Egypt, and Percy was no closer to asking Audrey to marry him than he was before. It was important that he do it the right way, that he said the right things. The trouble was, he didn't know what constituted right and wrong in these situations. Certainly there were scores of examples in books—in fact Audrey had a stack of romances that he could peruse—but those felt overwrought or unoriginal. The two married men he was best acquainted with had been unhelpful which wasn't much of a surprise, to be honest.

Percy pulled his mind from his troubles to focus on his mother. She wanted to know where Audrey was. Hiding, most likely. Without Fleur to fuss at, Mum seemed keen to make over Audrey as some sort of domestic goddess, a role that Audrey was not applying for. For a moment, Percy felt a twinge of sympathy for Bill, having to negotiate between his wife and mother.

"I'm not sure," Percy hedged.

"Well, go find her," Mum said. "I wanted to show her how to make the chocolate cake for dessert."

"You can't trick her into learning how to cook, Mum."

Mum eyed Percy, lips pursed. "Well. What are you waiting for?"

Ron snickered.

"It'll be Hermione's turn next," Percy muttered, pushing off the bench.

With long strides, Percy left the garden and followed the path to his father's shed. It was a ramshackle affair. Tucked under a chestnut tree that would drop its treasure on the asymmetrical tin roof in a few weeks, Arthur Weasley's workshop was much bigger on the inside than it was on the out. It was stuffed full with oddities from the Muggle world, from sparkplugs to rubber duckies that his father had charmed to quack whenever the door opened. In the dusty window, Percy could spy his father bent over his workbench in a pair of goggles, laughing.

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Dad looked up. "Ah, son! Look what she's done."

Sitting on a stool beside Dad, wearing a ridiculous pair of goggles that magnified her already large, brown eyes, was Audrey. An old, grease-smeared apron covered her floral frock, and she wore beat up dragon-hide gloves that were too big for her small hands. She was smiling at Percy from her perch, and he returned it as easily as breathing.

"What have you here?" Percy asked.

"Elec-to-ricity!" Dad said, clapping his own gloved hands together.

On the workbench were three potatoes, bits of copper, links of wire, and a glowing light bulb. Percy blinked, stepping back. He'd seen light bulbs before, of course. Giant ones all along the streets of London, or smaller ones in Muggle cafes, but never a lit light bulb so near a wizarding home. The magic usually disrupted the current. Even the streetlamps outside Percy's flat flickered erratically due to all the magic from inside the building.

"How?" Percy asked, leaning in between Dad and Audrey to get a better look.

Audrey placed her hand on his back. "Muggle children perform this trick all the time."

"It's like magic, isn't it?" Dad said.

"But how did you get it work here?" Percy asked.

"It's only working because of the short current," Audrey replied. "If I had to stretch it out even across this room, our magic would disrupt it."

"She's brilliant!" Dad declared.

Percy looked at his girlfriend, his heart skipping every third beat. "She is," he breathed.

"Now." Dad clapped Percy on the shoulder. "What brings you out here?"

"Oh." Percy turned red, just realizing that he'd been caught staring at Audrey like a lovesick calf. "Um, Mum was looking for you, Audrey."

She looked stricken. "What? Noooo!"

"I'm afraid so. Something about a chocolate cake."

"She wouldn't let Fleur near the kitchen, and she can actually cook."

"Best get on with it," Dad advised. "Always a good policy to keep on Molly's good side."

Audrey pulled off the goggles and gloves, sparing Percy dirty looks as if this were all his fault. "At least let me help clean up."

"No, no, I've got it. You go on," Dad said, taking the apron and shooing Audrey out of the door. Once it was closed, he smiled at Percy. "I do like her."

"So do I," Percy said. He put on Audrey's discarded gloves and began dismantling the potatoes.

With the help of two wands, clean up was but a moment. Then Percy was left standing next to his dad, surveying the general clutter of the shed. Bins overflowed with car parts, old toys, and telephones. Various tools hung on a pegboard over the bench Dad had constructed with Bill's help when they were children. As a boy, the shed was a quiet place for Percy to hide from his brothers. He could read as Dad worked on whatever new trinket he'd dragged home from work. Other times, Dad would bring out two glasses of pumpkin juice and they would talk of things that never seemed to interest others. Percy blanched, remembering how he'd sat on one of these benches as Dad explained the birds and the bees, complete with diagrams.

"I think I hear your mother calling," Dad said, pulling open the door.

"Wait!"

Dad turned to look at Percy expectantly.

"How did you ask Mum to marry you?"

With an assessing look, Dad closed the door again, and sat on a stool. "Join me."

Honestly, Percy didn't know why he hadn't asked his father sooner. Who knew more about marriage and family than Arthur Weasley? He sat on the stool beside his father's, feeling much as he did at ten, as though his father had all the answers to all the questions in the world. When and why had he ever started to doubt that?

"I reckon I must have thought about asking your mother to marry me a hundred times or more before I actually found the courage," Dad admitted. "We were still in Hogwarts, mind you."

"How did you do it?" Percy pressed.

Dad's ears turned red, and he cleared his throat before saying, "Well…it didn't go to plan. In fact, it was rather…in the heat of the moment."

Percy stared at his father for a full thirty seconds as his mind circled around that turn of phrase. _In the heat of the moment?_ For Godric's sake, that explained rather eloquently why there were so many Weasleys in the world. Percy reckoned his parents began as they meant to go on. Not that Percy was happy to know it.

"So…" Percy felt his own flush creeping up his neck. "You-you didn't have a-a nice speech planned?"

Arthur shook his head. "Just came out with it. Hardly knew what I was saying until your mum agreed, truth be told. And then…Well, I don't know that I'd ever been so happy as I was in that moment. It didn't matter that I'd botched the proposal, only that his incredible, passionate woman…this force of nature…had said yes."

Percy pushed his glasses up, turning to stare out the window. Most of his life, Percy had been trying to prove himself to someone else. Prove that he was as smart as Bill, prove that he was responsible enough to be put in charge, prove that he was clever enough to rise through the ranks at the Ministry. Audrey had blown into his life when he was at his lowest, grayest moment, and she had painted his world in new colors. But he'd had to prove himself to her—and by extension himself. Prove that he wasn't one more man who would let her down. It had taken patience and perseverance, and for the first time in his life, Percy felt like a better man for the effort. Now, Percy wanted to ask Audrey to put the ultimate trust in him. He needed to prove himself worthy one more time, but how? The answer eluded him.

"I'm sorry if that's not the answer you were looking for," Dad said, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder.

He looked up at his dad, frowning. "Perhaps I'm asking the wrong question?"

"When the moment is right, you'll know, and the words won't matter," Dad said, patting Percy's shoulder. "Come along, or Mum will be sending a search party and that can only mean trouble for us."

"Dad."

The older man stopped, turning to look at his son.

"You were sure, but what about Mum? Did you know that she would say yes?"

Dad looked at Percy for a long time before smiling. "I reckon I didn't. I knew Molly loved me, that she trusted me, otherwise she wouldn't have been with me in that moment. It was a leap of faith."

Percy grimaced, which elicited a small smile from his dad.

"Faith being one of those things you struggle with, of course?" Dad said. "Son, your Audrey is in the kitchen with your mother baking a cake for you against her will. Have faith in her."

oOo

"Percy, what are you doing home already?"

The man in question finished hanging his robes on the coatrack before going to help his girlfriend with the paper bags she was carrying. He reached for one, but Audrey dodged Percy's outstretched hand, kicking the door shut with her foot. Sparing him dirty looks, Audrey skirted around Percy and into the kitchen.

"You told me not to work late," Percy reminded her.

"Well, yes, but I didn't mean for you to be home at ten 'til five," Audrey argued. "Honestly, you've never left your desk a dot before five o'clock a day in your life."

Percy checked his watch. "It's five-oh-seven, I didn't leave even a minute early."

Audrey grabbed his wrist, lips folded into a tight line. " _This_ is Percy time."

"I can't help it if you are always three minutes late," he teased, kissing her nose.

"Go!" Audrey pointed at the bedroom. "Change! And do not come out until I call for you."

Banishment, as it turned out, took longer than Percy had expected. He took care to change into cotton trousers and put his work clothes away, only to find he still had time on his hands. For one bright moment, Percy thought he would be allowed out when Audrey popped into the bedroom, but she popped out just as quickly after fetching a strappy sundress. If he'd realized that he would be stuck in his bedroom all this time, he would have brought a book. Instead, Percy found himself lying across the bed, thumbing through one of Audrey's romance novels when she finally called him out.

"Happy birthday, Gryffindor!" Audrey threw her arms around Percy's neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

"But my birthday isn't until this weekend," he protested weekly.

"Yes, and your mother has already commandeered that day, I wanted to do something for you."

Their table was laid out as if expecting a feast instead of the cartons of Chinese that sat in the middle. Candles were lit despite the late summer sun still streaming through the windows. In the center of the table was a small cake with white icing and a candle. Best of all, Audrey wore a blue dress emblazoned with sunflowers that bared her arms and chest.

"Well…Cheers!" Percy's heart lurched into his throat, stealing his words.

"Come make a wish."

Audrey skipped over to the table, lighting the candle on the cake with her wand. When she turned back to him, cake in hand, Percy was hit with the full force of her smile. It was like having the sun shine just on him, and it never failed to make Percy feel like the luckiest wizard alive whenever she bestowed that brilliance on him. His hands were shaking, his head felt a bit woozy, but he shut his eyes and blew out the candle.

"What did you wish for?" Audrey whispered.

 _I wished for you._

"I can't tell you, minx, or it won't come true."

"Cake first? Since it's your birthday?"

Percy watched Audrey set the cake on the table. She was busy cutting it into slices and dishing it up, humming the birthday song quietly, but Percy's mind was a million miles away. His thoughts were circling around things like trust and strength and rightness, but mostly of love. He loved Audrey, and he wanted a chance to prove it to her everyday for the rest of his life. Pulling the ring from his pocket, Percy stared at it for a moment, then he just hoped for the best.

"Audrey." Percy's voice came out in a croak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Audrey, I have something I want to ask you."

She licked icing off her finger and whipped around. The smile froze on her face, her eyes growing large at the sight of the ring Percy was holding up. Grappling with his courage, Percy sank to one knee, hoping the words would come now that he needed them.

They didn't, of course.

Percy just knelt there, on the floor, staring at Audrey for what felt like an eternity. His heart was beating loudly between his ears, his sight filled with Audrey's surprised face. Nothing seemed to be working when he so desperately needed it to.

"Are-are you…" Audrey took one, small step towards him.

Without thinking, Percy surged to his feet, scooping Audrey up. She wrapped her bare legs around his waist, her fingers sinking into his hair. His hands were cupping her bottom, his lips moving over hers. Love and lust were twining together into such a fine mixture that Percy was consumed with it.

"I love you," he said and nibbled her throat.

Audrey arched her neck, giving his mouth better access to her silky skin. "Oh…Gryffindor. I love you, too."

He nosed the strap of her dress down, nipping her naked shoulder. Not caring that dinner would get cold, or that the candles would burn down and gutter, Percy carried Audrey back to their bedroom and lay her across their bed. Their kisses were urgent, their hands frantic, and his arousal demanding as it rubbed against her. It was only after he had her frock pulled down to her waist that Percy remembered his wish was for Audrey. And not only in the physical sense.

Kneeling between her thighs, Percy looked down at her and tried to catch his breath. The ring was stuck just past his first knuckle on his index finger. He pried it off, the right words no closer now than they had been five minutes ago.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" Audrey prompted.

He looked at her.

"I'll probably say yes."

Percy smiled. There were times it felt that he never knew how to smile before he met Audrey. Which wasn't true, of course, he'd had a mostly happy life before her, barring his own stupidity. Yet, with Audrey, it seemed like anything was possible, even the possibility that he could get out of his own way and be happy. Truly happy in the way a man was happy when he knew his lot in life was a damn fine one.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, offering her the ring.

Audrey thrust her hand at him. "Yes."

His hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries before he had the ring properly on her finger. Beaming, Percy looked at Audrey. There were tears in her eyes, and a smile on her lips. She looked so radiant, and pride burst through Percy at making her that happy. He leaned down to kiss her, which turned into two, which turned into four and more. Until finally, Audrey had Percy on his back, her small fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"Let's do this properly," she whispered, and kissed him again.


	3. Then Comes Baby

Author's Note: This chapter contains a sexually explicit scene. If that's not your cup of tea, stop reading now. However, if you continue, dear reader, please know that this is the first time I've published a scene of this nature, I welcome and appreciate your feedback.

Thank you again to my beta, **BurgundyHope**.

 _ **Rated R**_

* * *

Then Comes Baby

Well, that's a disaster.

Katie stood naked before the mirror, taking stock, six weeks after the birth of her son. Most of her belly had gone away, but there was still a bit of wobbly, pouchy skin there. Her once flat belly button resembled a crater. Her hips were fuller, and was that—Dear Merlin, those were stretch marks on her bum! Where had those come from? At least her blond hair was thick and shiny, her smile was as bright as ever, and her bosom may well have been a national treasure. After a month of "toughening up", her nipples no longer looked raw and chapped, but they certainly weren't small and pink like they used to be. She thought about using a hand mirror to examine other bits, but didn't feel that brave today.

Taking a deep breath, Katie turned from her image and walked into her bedroom. Her mother had bought her three velour tracksuits, and Katie—never fashionable anyways—practically lived in them. She pulled on the soft, black trousers and a Puddlemere jumper. House shoes and a ponytail completed the look. Since before the birth of her ten-pound, eight-ounce son, Katie had given no thought to being sexy, but all of sudden she was very aware of her own dumpiness. Maybe no ponytail today? And shoes, she could wear real shoes, and a vest under the matching track jacket instead of the lumpy, old jumper. Yes, that was slightly better.

oOo

"Use your spoon," Oliver said to his nephew, handing the lad a utensil. Young Campbell was trying to eat his porridge with his fingers, a mess Oliver did not want to clean up later.

Curled on his chest was Oliver's wee son, Robert. Well, Bobby, it had only taken a day before they'd shortened the baby's name. He was a big strong lad, his massive head already bobbling around on his neck, keenly aware of everything around him.

"Six weeks today, mate," Oliver said, stroking the baby's back. "You're still a bit useless, I'm afraid. You don't do much."

"Are you disparaging our son?" Katie skipped down the last steps of the backstairs into the kitchen.

There was something different about her today, but damned if Oliver knew what. Her face seemed more open? Or her hair was…something? His eyes dropped to her chest. There was a hint of cleavage, and a pleasing roundness that was usually covered up. Oliver shifted in his chair. Was it his husbandly duty to compliment whatever she changed? What if he guessed wrong, or blurted out something about her boobs? That rarely went well. It seemed a lot safer just to keep his gob shut until he figured it out.

Oliver cleared his throat. "I was just saying that he doesn't do much to earn his keep."

"He doesn't have to," Katie cooed, she bent to tickle the soft skin under Bobby's chin, but Oliver was distracted by her soft skin. "He does that."

A gummy, joyful smile lit up the baby's face, and he laid his head on Oliver's chest. "Alright, that's pretty sweet," he admitted.

"Good morning, Cam," Katie sing-songed to the toddler. "Yucky porridge this morning?"

"Yucky," Campbell echoed, and flung porridge with his spoon.

"Hm, looks like you are done then." Katie took the bowl and spoon, Summoning a rag with her wand to scrub the boy clean.

"Come along, wee man," Oliver said, standing up. "We can get dressed, and go for a fly."

Campbell scrambled off his chair and scurried up the stairs, yelling, "Zip! Zip! Zip! Go the broomstick!"

"Be careful," Katie said.

"Broomstick safety is my number one priority." Oliver passed the baby into her arms, and Bobby snuggled against Katie's chest, drawing Oliver's eyes once again. He'd seen her breasts naked more than clothed since Bobby was born, usually with the baby hanging off one side or the other, and Katie grimacing or half-asleep or both. Today, covered in ribbed, pink cotton, Oliver couldn't take his eyes off their mouthwatering fullness. It wasn't his imagination that they were bigger, and they hadn't been small to begin with. Merlin, they would overflow his hands now.

After Bobby was born, the midwife had given a long list of instructions and edicts, the only one Oliver remembered was the No Sex Rule. He saw what Katie went through to push their son into the world, there was just no way that Oliver was going to bother her, she would have to be the one to initiate something. Still, the midwife had said six weeks, which was today. Oliver looked into Katie's eyes, smiling.

"Make sure Campbell dresses himself, and puts on his own shoes," Katie recited. "And don't get fussed if he puts them on the wrong feet. His mum will be here—"

Oliver stopped her with a kiss. "You're sexy when you get into Mum Mode."

"Go on with yourself, Wood!" Katie giggled. "Seriously, before Cam gets into something he shouldn't."

Oliver dragged his fingertips across her arse before jogging up the stairs.

oOo

Katie backed out of the darkened nursery into the hall. This was just Bobby's third night in his own room, before he'd slept in a cradle in the corner of her bedroom. Well, the cradle had started out next to her bed, then the end of it, and finally across the room. She was so attuned to her son that every soft sigh or snuffle he made kept her awake. After five nights of obsessively checking his blankets again and again, Oliver had moved the cradle.

Casting charms to carry Bobby's cries to her anywhere in the house, Katie backed right into the solid wall of her husband's chest. His hand covered her mouth to stifle the sound of her surprised yelp, and she elbowed him hard in the ribs. Whirling around, Katie eyed Oliver, hands on her hips.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I wasn't expecting you to walk right into me, was I?" he replied, chuckling. "Not that I'm objecting, mind you."

"Shhh!" Katie looked over her shoulder at the door, but all remained quiet. Was it too quiet? Should she check on Bobby one last time?

"C'mon, lass, he'll be up to feed in a few hours."

That was true enough. Oliver pulled her into their bedroom across the hall. Katie expected Oliver to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her—or was she hoping—but he didn't. Instead, he took a deep breath, his eyes roving over her from head to toe, lingering on her chest. All day, Katie's mind had strayed to her husband. She kept finding herself staring off into space, imagining the cut of her husband's muscles, or the pressure of his lips as he tasted hers, or the thrill of having his course hands sneaking into her knickers. It left Katie tingling with anticipation. Yet, just as strongly as those urges rocked through Katie's body, her insecurities kept seizing her mind. Now, here was Oliver, hesitating with her. Why? What was holding him back? Did he have trouble seeing her as a woman now that she was a mother? It never seemed to bother him when she was as round as a Quaffle. Was he not attracted to her now that her svelte Chaser's body was a thing of the past?

"How was training?" Katie asked. She walked around Oliver, kicking her trainers off, and climbing onto their bed.

"It was the same as when you asked me that question at dinner."

"Sorry." Katie smiled sheepishly. "I think I got distracted and didn't hear your answer."

Oliver lay on his side of the bed. "That's alright, it was dead boring anyway."

"Quidditch? Never!"

"Maybe not the Quidditch part, but the drills."

Katie quirked an eyebrow, and tried to suppress a smile. "Let me see if I understand: You, Oliver Wood, Quidditch fanatic, thought drills were boring? You, the man who forced me out of bed to train for hours on end? In the rain! In the snow! At dawn!"

Oliver grinned, goosing her arse. "So, I might have been a bit of a zealous prat back in our Hogwarts' days…"

He was on his back, his arms at his sides, but his face was turned to her. Oliver's dark eyes moved over Katie like a caress, and yet there was still a sense of restraint, like maybe Oliver was waiting for something. Katie folded her hands in her lap, realizing she felt exactly the same. She'd had just enough sleep in the last few nights to actually miss sex. She missed the physical aspect of skin on skin, his hands on her breasts, her mouth against his skin, the release. She also missed the closeness, the feeling of femininity she got when he was appreciating all of her curves, the rush of excitement when she made him groan low in his throat.

Katie wanted to feel bold, but her nerve just wasn't there. Zeroing in on Oliver's hand where it lay limply by his thigh, she reached out and tickled the palm. His fingers flexed slightly. Stealing a glance at his face, she caught him watching her closely, waiting to see what she would do next. With just that tiny bit of encouragement, Katie walked her fingers up his forearm, over a day-old bruise that had turned purple at the edges, to the crook of his elbow where she tickled the tender skin there. His hand curled into a fist, his chest rising and falling in short breaths.

"Oliver?"

Suddenly, Katie felt shy, unsure of herself. Her hand stilled on Oliver's arm. She needed more than these small clues that he liked what she was doing. This time, Katie needed Oliver to take charge. She needed to feel desired, but she didn't want to have to ask for it. That was completely unfair, of course, especially for a man like Oliver who understood almost nothing about women.

Their eyes met—only for a moment, but it felt like longer—before Oliver surged to his knees, crushing Katie against him. His powerful arms were around her, her hands trapped against his chest, and his lips moving against hers. For one surprised moment, Katie was stiff in his embrace, but quickly melted into him, returning his kiss with a moan.

"Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you," he murmured, his lips ghosting from hers across her cheek to nip at her ear.

Katie giggled, which was apparently the only agreement Oliver needed. She worked her hands loose to run her fingertips down his flanks, under his t-shirt, and over his taut abdominal muscles. Bless the gods for sit-ups. Her fingers played in the thatch of dark hair that gathered between his pectorals.

"I've been thinking about this all day," Oliver said. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. "Made it damn uncomfortable to sit on a broomstick."

Impatient tugs got the jacket of Katie's tracksuit off so it could join his t-shirt. Twin emotions of excitement and anxiety coiled in Katie's belly. He was reaching for the hem of her vest, his eyes already on her breasts, but Katie stopped him with a simple touch on his wrist.

"Katie?" Oliver's eyes met hers. "Are-are you not ready?"

"I'm…a little…nervous," she confessed. _Like a bloody virgin!_

His hands settled solidly around her waist, his gaze falling to her lap. "Is everything…alright…down there?"

"Merlin, I hope so." Katie half laughed, clenching her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid it'll hurt, I reckon, after everything."

"I'll be gentle."

His hand rubbed up and down her side. She wondered if he knew how reassuring that tender touch was to her? This man of hers, he was burly and powerful with bulging muscles and big, rough hands, and the softest touch.

"We don't even have to—"

Katie shut him up with a kiss. "I want to," she whispered against his mouth, and felt him grin.

Still, Katie pulled back, watching him with a pensive expression. She was afraid that it would hurt, but rationally she knew that women all over the world had intercourse after birth so things must go back to normal down there. That was only a small part of the reason she was nervous.

"Oliver, I-I don't look the way I did before the pregnancy."

His brow puckered. "I know. We share a room and a bath, lass."

"And…you don't mind?" Katie forced her eyes to stay on Oliver as understanding dawned.

"Merlin," he breathed. His hands moved down to cup her arse, his lips nuzzling her throat and chest. "Don't be daft, Katie."

With her fingers pressing into the muscles of his back, Katie laughed loudly. "You have the best pillow talk."

"Talking is not what I do best." Oliver stood to add the rest of his clothes to the pile on the floor, then climbed back on the bed to kneel before Katie. Her eyes were drawn to the line of hair from his belly button to where his cock stood ready. Excitement fizzed inside of Katie with all the bubbles and sweetness of champagne in her veins. Physically, he wanted her, and that was certainly something.

"Your turn," he whispered.

Katie shook out her hair like a mane. She was a Gryffindor, time to be brave. She pulled off her top, Oliver's eyes were glued to her breasts still inside the plain white of her nursing bra, her nipples pressed against thick circles of thick cotton to catch any milk that might leak. Regardless, they were her best assets, and Oliver had always liked her boobs.

"Damn, lass." His voice was quiet, a bit strangled, his hands curled tightly against his mighty thighs.

"I'm not done yet."

Rising up on her knees, Katie pulled off her trousers and knickers before removing her bra. Her breath was caught in her chest, wondering if she had ever been quite as naked as she was in that moment. Oliver forced his eyes away from her breasts to take in the wreckage, his hands following in their path. His palms worked down her sides, his thumbs dragging over the pouchy skin of her belly, around to squeeze her bottom.

"My. Katie." Oliver bent to kiss her the top of her stomach. She closed her eyes, biting down on her lip to keep from crying at the tenderness of it. Arching her back, pushing her arse into his kneading hands, Katie let go of her insecurities.

"You can touch them," Katie said huskily.

Oliver looked at her, one corner of his mouth drawn up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you want to." Katie arched her back again, pushing her breasts into his face.

"Mm." He cupped one breast in each hand. "You don't know how often I've thought of doing this."

"I think I have an idea." Katie giggled when Oliver gave her a look that was as disgruntled as a man with a raging erection could manage.

"Don't get cheeky." He rolled her nipples between his finger and thumb, causing a corresponding yearning to pool between her thighs. He did it again, ending with a slight tug, and Katie gasped. Her nipples felt oddly sensitive and numb at the same time.

"Maybe don't pull on them," Katie said, frowning.

"Like this?" He rolled them between his fingers again. "Or this?" he drew circles with his fingers, then tweaked the tips.

"Oh…" Fire gathered in her chest, burning a trail through her breasts, making them feel fuller, until milk began to spray from her nipples. "Oh! Oh, no!"

Oliver laughed. "That was unexpected."

Milk was dripping on his hands, which Katie pushed away. She reached for her bra, red staining her cheeks. Of all her many worries about post-pregnancy sex, it never even crossed her mind that Oliver playing with her breasts would stimulate her milk to let down. How stupid was she? And sticky. And wet. Droplets of perfectly body-temperature milk rolled down the underside of her breasts to pool on her stomach.

"What are you doing, lass?" Oliver wrapped his arms around her hips to keep her from moving.

"Covering up."

"Why?" He kissed her chest, nuzzled her breast, ran his tongue around the curve, gathering the milk before wrapping his lips around her nipple, and rolling it inside his mouth. Katie moaned, clutching his shoulders, pressing her hips against him.

"You're not crying over spilled milk, are you, lass?" Oliver asked with a shaky grin.

Katie laughed, and pulled his hair. "Shut it, you great ox!"

Laughter turned into something hotter and finer. Oliver took her other nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue abrading its tip. Katie's fingers ran through his hair, down the lines of his neck, clutching the muscles of his shoulders. It was hard to remember that she had ever been unsure of herself. Desire and pleasure overtook all her nerves, leaving her a trembling, moaning mass in Oliver's arms.

Sinking down on the mattress, Katie pulled Oliver over her—his weight so deliciously right—his muscular thigh between her spread legs, brushing against her most sensitive spot. Katie rubbed herself against him, needing more, loving the way his body made hers feel, and that nothing had changed about that. Oliver stopped what he was doing so he could watch her, his cock growing and straining against her thigh. One big hand ghosted down Katie's belly until it rested just above her golden pubic hair.

"Merlin," he whispered. "You're pretty."

Shifting so that his cock was firmly against her belly, his hand dipped between her thighs. His touch was soft, but not teasing. It was tentative, seeking permission, measuring pressure. It was his turn to be nervous. He needed to know that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn't going to hurt her. Katie wasn't so sure of that herself, but she wanted him.

She touched his face, and said, "Please."

Two things happened. Oliver growled, but his hand stilled. Restraint. Every muscle of his body was tense with the need for action and gentleness. Katie kissed him, her tongue playing against his, her hands stroking down his back to his arse. His fingers stroked her, teasing her entrance, through her wet crease, circling her clitoris. The pleasure was swelling inside Katie, just as it always did, reassuring and familiar and so, so good.

"More."

His fingers entered her with agonizing slowness, his eyes watching her face.

"Alright?" Oliver asked.

"Mm-hmm." Katie bit her lip, nodding her head.

Katie was beyond words, but Oliver must have heard something encouraging in her murmurs because his fingers curled and thrust into her. His thumb rubbed against her clitoris in ever more purposeful circles. Katie dug her heels into the mattress, her fingers clutching the muscles of his back. Her nipples were tight, her breasts felt heavy and needy, but Oliver never required encouragement to lavish attention there. He sucked on one nipple, and Katie came undone with arching screams and quivering bucks.

"Katie." Oliver was kissing her and saying her name, grasping each of her hips in his big hands. "Have you done the contraceptive charm, lass?"

Katie's eyes flew open. "No!"

Oliver grabbed her wand from the bedside table and placed it in her hand. "Maybe no more wee bairns for a bit?"

"One's enough for now," Katie agreed, and giggled with relief that he remembered to take care of her this time before performing the charm, then let her wand fall out of her hand so she could wrap her arms around her husband and pull him down for a kiss.

He grasped her hips again, dragging his tip along her cleft. "Ready?" he asked through clenched teeth.

One small hand drifted down his body until she could wrap her fingers around him, reveling in his groan, and guide him to the place she most wanted him. "Yes."

"Oh, Merlin," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense with strain. He entered her with exquisite slowness, and Katie marveled at the ease, the last of her fears flying away. Without it, all she could concentrate on was the power of his body around and inside her, and the need to have him _move._

"O-okay?" he asked.

"Yes." Katie shifted, taking more of him inside and eliciting another groan from Oliver. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Don't." He buried his face in her shoulder.

Katie hooked one leg over his hip, and thrust against him, earning a light slap on the arse.

"Lass," Oliver growled. "It's been more than six weeks, I'm trying not to lose my head here."

"It feels good?"

He growled. "So bloody good. Hot. And good. Just…don't."

She ran her fingers through his hair and over his shoulders. "I want you."

That seemed to do the trick because he moved. One small stroke against all the right places, and Katie met it with all her strength, moaning his name. Then they were flying. Moving together in a way that was instantly familiar, and still exciting. Skin to skin, clumsy touches, soft grunts and moans, building that incredible something inside of each other with each thrust until it broke. Leaving them both panting and coming gently back to earth and each other.

For a moment afterwards, Oliver collapsed into Katie. She clung to him, arms and legs, savoring the rare chance to bare his weight before he rolled onto his back and dragged her across his chest. They lay there for long moments, weak and sweaty.

Oliver trailed his fingers down her spine. "Are you…I didn't hurt you?"

Katie lifted her head off his chest, smiling. "Exactly the opposite, I promise."

"Good."

Minutes passed, Katie shifted to lie alongside Oliver, her head still nestled on his chest, and he cleaned them both with a handy spell. Darkness gathered in their room as they spoke softly of their family and Quidditch until minutes turned to hours. The next thing Katie knew, she woke to full night at the sounds of their baby's cries, and Oliver's hand was still on her hip. She smiled, stretched, content.


End file.
